


a little messed up

by tentacledog



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Masturbation, Old Ford Young Stanley AU, UST, jerking off in your twin's bed is rude behavior, mullet!Stanley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledog/pseuds/tentacledog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an AU based on some ideas that were going around on tumblr. </p>
<p>Stanley gets the portal up and running only six months after his brother falls through - but the Stanford who comes out of the portal has aged thirty years. And oh no, he's hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little messed up

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote a little fic riffing off that “what if Stanley got the portal up and running inside a year but the Ford who came back to him was still thirty years aged? And then Stanley was like OH NO HE’S OLD AND HOT” AU that’s been floating around, [because](http://nemo-the-fool.tumblr.com/post/126156234490/yeah-im-a-bit-lethargic-lately-first-shit-i) [I](http://stanleystash.tumblr.com/post/125834177297/oh-i-slipped-%CA%96-how-did-that-happen) [love it](http://stanleystash.tumblr.com/post/125725194692/goddamn-okay-so-what-if-stanley-managed-to-get-th). This is definitely indebted to [stanleystash](http://stanelystash.tumblr.com) and [nemo-the-fool](http://nemo-the-fool.tumblr.com).

Stan just collapses in his brother’s bed and sleeps in it after staggering upstairs to the house in the middle of the night, leaving Ford still banging away in the lab downstairs over a cup of crappy coffee. How a guy that old can go all night Stanley has no idea. The brother Stanley remembers from when they were young was electric when he was motivated by passion, especially when Ford was working on one of his nerd projects, but he didn’t do this all-night mad-scientist crap – Stan’s _seen_ Ford in the mornings, wearing clothes from the day before, looking haggard-faced and grim, or delighted over one of the freaky local monsters, and always about a million miles away mentally from anything Stan knows how to grapple with. Teen Ford would get jazzed up on excitement, yeah, but then he’d fall asleep at the kitchen table or on the floor of their room at 3 am until their Ma came in in the morning and started screamin’ from seeing her kid lying there. But that was a long time ago, Stanley thinks bitterly. 

He’s scared he barely knows this guy who’s his brother now; this version of Stanford that came back through the portal snarling about blame and how irresponsible Stanley was for opening it - nevermind who _built_ the thing - and like Stanley woulda ever left his brother trapped on the other side –

But at least there’s some kinda place for Stan here. Food to eat, and in the middle of Oregon? A looong way from anywhere Rico knows to look for him. No thanks for the rescue, _of course_ – but apparently Ford’ll tolerate him now in exchange for Stanley doing all his heavy lifting.

‘Cause, oh yeah, now that Stan’s finally got his estranged brother back from sci-fi portal land? Ford’s _old._ Not that it ain’t working out for him – Stan’s brother is suddenly tough and muscled as an old guy, all grizzled like John Wayne. That jerk kicked his ass right out of the portal. Stanley can still remember Ford’s wiry strength holding him down, calloused hands trapping his wrists together. The Poindexter Stan used to know could _never._ It’s a memory that sends a mixture of shame and something hotter through him. 

Stan turns his face sideways into the sheets, restless. The bed smells like Ford again, now that he’s kicked Stanley outta it and onto that hard piece of shit in the attic. It’s a good smell, soothing in an animal way. Maybe the only thing that’s totally unchanged about his brother, he thinks. 

-Well. That and how much of a stubborn ass Ford can be. _Don’t think about his ass, damnit._

And his brother’s nerd grin hasn’t changed.

Not that Stanley gets to see it much. Oh _nooo_. But that look was there on Ford’s face earlier today when they dug up another of Ford’s mouldering journals together, Ford looking proud and dorky just like he used to get when he won at chess but – older. All eager and dapper and shit – ngh.  And Ford had looked up from his damn journal, after Stan had done most of the work digging it up, thanks – and _seen_ him, really seen Stan for maybe the first time since Ford’d come back outta the portal. He’d put a hand on the back of Stanley’s head in thanks. Just a touch. It’d sent prickles all down Stan’s spine.

Now Stan can’t sleep.

He puts his arm over his face with a huff, popping open the buttons of his fly, slides his hand inside his sagging jeans. Doesn’t think about it – the hard scar that dimples Ford’s mouth in the corner where Stanley could lick, Ford’s voice that’s gotten gravelly with age, muttering in Stan’s ear – Stan closes his hand around his dick with a relieved groan, already more than half-hard, hips twitching in the tight confines of his jeans. He rubs two fingers over the head of his dick, just touching the sensitive skin, and shudders. Spits in his hand and starts pumping himself, mind buzzing, trying to think about anything but –

Doesn’t think about his brother’s grizzled stubble scratching his face, the wild fuckin’ scars that Ford has now that Stan’s glimpsed and that thrill and scare Stan both, how he still smells the same – Stan bites his fist to muffle a noise, sliding his knees apart, speeding up the hand on his dick. Doesn’t remember the feel of hard thighs straddling his ass, keeping him down, grinding his chin into the dirt - _Damn, didn’t know Poindexter had it in ‘im_ , he thinks –

\- and yeah, fuck, his hands, Stan’s brother’s unique hands that could only belong to Ford, but -hands that’ve only gotten more capable, more knowing, in thirty years. Stanley imagines Ford’s hands pulling his boxers down, stroking his dick just like Stan’s doing to himself now – no, slower.  More hard and tight and punishing while, y-yeah, Ford bites the back of Stan’s neck and laughs that doofy laugh in his ear, the one that’s gotten deep and husky now – he imagines six fingers rolling his balls like those dorky dice Ford still has, Stan’s seen ‘em. Stanley shoves his other hand into his pants and tugs his own balls, just this side of too-tight, forcing himself to draw it out, shuddering, until he can’t take it, until he’s gotta roll over with a groan and hump his hips hard against the mattress. He bites Ford’s pillow and imagines Ford jerking him off, rough and implacable and stern with that lazer-focus gaze behind his glasses, until Stan comes with a curse, shooting slick all over the inside of his boxers and feeling like the top of his head blew off.

Dazed and uncoordinatedly wiping his wet mouth on the sheets, Stanley rolls onto his side and passes out with a sigh before he can even take his hand out of his jeans.

\----

 

Stanley wakes to the sound of birds outside, the sun falling in the dusty window and lighting up the unfamiliar-familiar sloped ceiling of what used to be his brother’s room in his brother’s house. Seeing that ceiling makes his heart skip a beat – he remembers his brother’s dead, and it’s his fault- or worse, his twin’s trapped in some kind of alien place Stanley’s barely beginning to understand the possibilities of from Ford’s crazy notebook -

But then Stanley turns his head and the disapproving face looming over him swims into view.

“I believe that’s my bed,” Ford says, his scarred mouth frowning, chiseled jaw jutting in a way that’s unfamiliar and thrilling on his brother’s older face, and oh shit, Stanley doesn’t want to kiss him in relief, not even a little.

“You got jizz on my pillowcase? You _animal_ ,” Ford’s here and grumping at him, and if that makes the blood pulse in Stanley’s morning wood, well, hell, he’s a little messed up.


End file.
